


someone to put this weight on

by advantagetexas



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: But he's getting over them, M/M, drunk calling your ex, love me some mental character development, modern!AU, tucker's got huge commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advantagetexas/pseuds/advantagetexas
Summary: Tucker drunk calls Wash after their messy breakup and subsequent non-communication for a year. It goes about twice as well as you'd expect.





	someone to put this weight on

Calling your ex at three am after a drinking binge is against literally every rule and bit of common sense that have ever existed ever. Calling your ex, the one that you told to his face that he was definitely not an ex and was definitely just someone you were fooling around with, is definitely not a good idea. Especially when you’ve been harboring feelings for him for the past year since you had broken it off. Because you actually had liked him, _loved_ him, even, and you were just afraid of commitment because of who you are as a person. None of that was ever, in any book, a good idea.

Did Tucker care about any of that? No.

The phone was already in his hand, his punchdrunk, jaegerbomb blinded fingers trying to type out Wash’s number from memory by the time he pushed out of the club’s front door and into the silent night streets. The sky was clear tonight, moonlight and starlight shining down on his fevered attempts at dialing a correct and coherent number.

He finally managed it, hissing with drunken delight as he practically slammed the ringing phone to his head. Wash answered after only two rings. Probably because the last time they’d spoken Tucker had yelled “The next time I call you will be on my fucking deathbed”, but of course he didn’t remember that at this point.

“Hello?” Wash’s voice on the phone melted Tucker’s heart like an icecap in July. He’d called intending to berate and annoy him, but now all he could remember was the good times. Cuddling and laughing in bed, going out to dinner, that one time he’d pushed Wash into the water at the minigolf place and they’d gotten kicked out.

He…he actually missed him. Oh fuck.

“Tucker? Are you drunk right now?”

“You know what?” Tucker started, trying to talk himself into a rage, but not managing it. Not after hearing the concern in Wash’s voice. He’d always hated that tone because he thought it was pitying. He didn’t want any of your fucking pity. He realized now that it wasn’t, that that was just what it sounded like when someone truly cared about you. He’d been so, so wrong.

“I just have a few things to say,” he slurred, leaning back against the brick wall of the club to steady himself, hoping the cold breeze would sober him up. “First of all, that dude you’re with right now? The one that you keep posting pictures with on Facebook. Fucking _facebook,_ Wash. Who even are you?”

“I-“

“No, you let me finish. That guy? Fuck that guy. I haven’t even met him and I won’t ever because you fucking love him, and that shit burns me up.”

“Tucker.” Wash interjects harshly, obviously about to launch into a protective speech, but Tucker cuts him off again.

“Fuck that guy ‘cause he loves you. Do you know what that’s like, Wash? Watching another guy love the guy you’re in love with? It’s not even like he’s a dickhead, he’s a fucking accountant with a fucking 401k and a retirement package and what am I? I can’t give you any of that, and I can’t hate him for giving you all of that either.”

“Tucker, what are you-“

He sighs, tossing his head back into the wall in frustration loud enough to make it thunk against the brickwork.

“I can’t even hate him because you deserve somebody that’ll be good to you. And I wasn’t good to you. I treated you like shit, and I pretended that I didn’t feel the way I did because I was afraid. I don’t even remember what I was afraid of, I just-“

“Commitment.” The way Wash says it is like a dagger to Tucker’s lungs. He wields the word like a wellworn knife, like he’s been practicing with it, waiting for this exact moment. “I wanted to marry you, Tucker. And you said no. And told me to fuck off.”

“I was an asshole. I was a complete asshole and I didn’t deserve you. And that’s not even me being like ‘oh, I’m sorry, please take me back so I can fuck you over again’, like, no. I know I fucked up. I know I’ll probably still love you for the rest of my life, and that you’ll probably marry this accountant fucker, and it’s fine. Whatever. Fuck it.”

He stops talking, hears the static of someone still on the line, but Wash isn’t talking, isn’t saying anything, is just letting the silence between them steep like the rose tea Wash always insisted on getting from that stupid coffeeshop by their house. Their house. Together. And god, he’d fucked that up too.

“Do you remember the day we went to that dumb action movie and got lost on the way home?” Wash asked eventually, his voice softened from how it had sounded before.

“I remember that I screamed at you and instead of screaming back like you usually did you just took it.” Tucker cringes at the memory, the brick behind him scraping against his leather jacket. “I couldn’t figure out how to apologize for it, and I tried for weeks and I just couldn’t find the words, so I didn’t. It was fucked.”

“You don’t remember what you said?”

“No, I don’t. Why are you twisting the knife on this out of all the shit that I-“

“You said ‘David, I fucking love you, but your navigating skills are shit’,” Wash says, cutting Tucker off, the same weird tilt to his voice. “You called me David for the first time that night, and it threw me off so much that I couldn’t even respond. But I saw that you felt like shit about it in your face every time you looked at me for the next week. I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you that it was okay.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Tucker asked, after a long silence. He felt almost sober right now, or at least as sober as someone six shots deep can feel.

“Neither of us are good at saying how we feel,” Wash said with a chuckle. Tucker can’t help but laugh too, because like, fuck, dude, he was right.

“Do you remember the old coffee place we used to go to?” Wash continued, “The one over on Bay Street?”

“The one with the fancy teas?”

“Yeah, that one. Meet me there tomorrow? After you shake the inevitable hangover, of course.”

“Sure, man, of course,” Tucker responded immediately. “But why-“

“I just want to see you,” Wash replied, but the keening, almost _needy_ tone in his voice throws Tucker for even more of a loop than the statement does. “I think we have a lot more to talk about than just one phone conversation.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Tucker said, almost shellshocked, but smiling despite himself.

“G’night, Tucker,” Wash said, before the call clicks dead. Tucker pulls the screen away from his ear and puts it into his jacket pocket, before starting off toward his apartment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> return to form, lads, a return to form   
> also based on the Drake song Marvin's Room, if that wasn't clear


End file.
